Black Dance into the Truth
by Heath07
Summary: Ryan. Second person POV. Dark themes.


Title: Black Dance into the Truth

Author: Heath07

Rating: R

Summary: um...I don't know. Ryan and his dark thoughts? Why don't you all tell me what you think it's about? lol Ryan, second person POV.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Ryan, though, if I could own a part of him.... Hey, get your minds out of the gutter! Heh.

Notes: This is a stream of consciousness thing. It probably doesn't make a lot of sense, but I kind of like that it doesn't make that much sense. 

________

Everyone has that one relationship that fucks them up for a few years. You watch Marissa with her deceptively innocent smile and hope this isn't yours. 

  
  


There was a girl Trey had at sixteen he'd tried to kill himself over. You found him in the bathtub and wrapped a towel around his wrist just in time. You remember the blood. It was all over the small square carpet and you could hear your mom screaming in the background, blurring everything around you. The coppery smell of it ingrained itself in your brain. Copper like a penny and just as shiny and new. 

  
  


A lot of people kill themselves in the bathtub and you wondered about that for a long time. Then it just hit you. The bottle of aspirin spilled on the counter. The thin ooze of blood. The undeniable fact that when liquid heats it thins. It all made sense then. 

  
  


You would never kill yourself in the bathtub. With your luck Seth would find you and you wouldn't be able to forgive yourself for that. 

  
  


Not that you'd ever kill yourself. You're just in some weird head space right now. 

  
  


Marissa strives for some convoluted, intricate type of love and you don't know how to give that to her. You've barely known that soft, surface love that Sandy and Kirsten are just starting to show you. Even the clingy, awe-inspired love that Seth tries to hide is new to you. 

  
  


Marissa needs so much. She's a rich girl with rich tastes and you don't know how to satisfy any of them. Maybe you were better off staying in Chino with Theresa. As rough around the edges as she was, she never expected a lot of you. She anticipated that you would fail and break her heart and she'd take you back because you know each other that well. You don't know Marissa and all her idiosyncrasies and insecurities yet, though, you're learning she has a lot of them, more than you expected...maybe more than you can handle.

  
  


It's taken you all this time to figure out what you need, what you deserve and then Marissa spins it around and makes life about her. 

  
  


You want to scream and you don't know why. This is what you wanted, isn't it?

  
  


You've already had a shitty year and you anticipate it getting even more fucked up. The stash of cigarettes you've hidden under your bed amongst dirty magazines and condoms calls to you. 

  
  


You can't remember the last time you smoked and now you're shaking from withdrawal. A quick check through the window at the main house to make sure everyone is asleep and then your naked back is to the wall, your legs crossed in front of you, your head pounding against the plaster and your lungs filling with smoke and sustenance. 

  
  


You close your eyes and the memory of blood coats the back of your eyelashes. You can almost smell the copper decadence. The airy, hollow scent of it. Your ears ring and you choke a little on the smoke and you have to spit. You wish you could spit out everything. All the wrongs in your life. All those nights where you were too afraid to sleep and too tired to stay awake. The ten lies you tell yourself everyday and the one truth you won't own up to.

  
  


You wish you could turn off your Tantric thoughts as they drone on, rattling around in your head like a shaker of coarse salt. 

  
  


You have to wind yourself up like one of those street performing monkeys who dance for change. That's you, dancing for change; sidestepping reality and waltzing with your pride. 

  
  


Even glycerin can't open that taciturn mouth of yours. The soapy taste of your lies are comforting. The sour taste of the truth churns your stomach. 

  
  


Four aspirin to calm your nerves. A hot bath to sooth your soul. You leave your shaving kit on your bed, no use tempting yourself. 

  
  


Let it fade. No one knows. They never will. It's taken you all this time to figure it out. 

  
  


__________

end. 

  
  



End file.
